


Taste the Rainbow

by dreamofhorses



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: I sacrificed a jacket and I'm not sorry, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 12:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14165367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofhorses/pseuds/dreamofhorses
Summary: Remember when Armie was stuck in New York for the bomb cyclone? Timmy was shooting his GQ photo shoot that day, and here's what might have happened if Timmy had invited Armie to join him.I might also have used this story to work through some anger at how expensive designer clothing can be.





	Taste the Rainbow

“And, once more, please,” the photographer asks, and Timmy’s too happy to oblige. He’s leaning against the window, lit in blue, flicking his long fingers under his chin as he’s been asked to do, getting just the shot the photographer has in mind. “That’s great, let’s do the next setup,” the photographer calls, and goes to another corner of the huge, unheated brownstone where they’re working.

That’s when Timmy catches Armie’s eye. He’s not even supposed to be there, something about a bomb cyclone and all flights cancelled, Armie texts  _ what are you into _ and when Timmy says  _ leather pants, you should see em,  _ Armie somehow knows where to direct his cab without even asking Timmy for an address. The GQ folks don’t mind as long as they get their shot, so Armie hovers just out of frame, working his way into Timmy’s sight lines. God, Timmy thinks, I couldn’t have chosen the shot setups better myself. He gets to pine mournfully at Armie from a bathtub, curl up in his leather pants on the priceless couch, and now they’re handing him a rainbow-colored jacket and saying it will be a close-up, let’s play around, see what feelings it gives you. Armie’s pacing nervously behind the photographer, and when he’s just over the photographer’s shoulder and catches Timmy’s eye, Timmy runs both hands through his hair and yanks it up hard, fast, like Armie would do, like Armie loves to do, but he keeps his face innocent,  _ who me, certainly not, why Mr. Hammer I believe you have the wrong idea-- _

“Fuuuuuck.” Timmy’s the only one that hears it. He’s attuned to it by now, heard Armie say it often enough at press conferences and premieres, Armie whistles the word between his perfect teeth, out of his body as simple as breath, and Timmy keeps the innocent look on his face, keeps eye contact with Armie while tangling his long fingers in his curls and pulling some back down again, and the photographer’s saying, “great, let’s get some video now if we could?”

Timmy crosses to a better-lit corner of the room, still in the rainbow jacket, and just for the fun of it when they first start the video setup he catches Armie’s eye again, effortlessly arranges his face into the innocent expression, and adjusts his cock through the leather pants. It’s all he can do not to get hard instantly at the sight of Armie’s face. Armie bites his lip and looks at the window for distraction but his gaze whips right back to Timmy.

“We’re rolling,” the photographer says, circling Timmy a bit with a video camera. The shot is tight and the photographer is very close to Timmy’s face, so he doesn’t see Timmy’s hand drift back down to his crotch, to where the leather pants are making Armie’s effect on Timmy very clear. Timmy glances away, out the window, down at the floor, but his long fingers brush against his cock in the leather and he sees Armie’s eyes drift there too.

“Just go with it,” the photographer says, having circled Timmy completely and come back around to shoot his face and neck.  _ Oh if that’s what you want _ , Timmy thinks, and then it hits him like lightning what to do. His hand drifts innocently back from below his waist, back above his shoulders, and he sees Armie’s gaze return to him quickly, he can almost hear Armie think,  _ what are you up to? _

And that’s when Timmy closes his long fingers around his throat. He caresses the sides, sells it as a thoughtful move by a man in deep reflection. Only Armie knows how far from the truth this is. In truth it’s the one gesture that reduces them both to pure desire and physical feeling. Armie’s standing openly in the middle of the room, but he can’t be for long, not now that Armie’s thinking of every time he every closed his hand around Timmy’s throat, kissing it afterward, touching and touching and touching in the dark, and suddenly Armie’s so hard he knows the first person to look at him will see it. He moves quickly to a nearby prop chair and grabs the back of it, and when his hands clench on the chair he releases the softest, highest, most pleading sound, and Timmy hears it, and knows he’s hit his goal, and it takes all his theatrical training to keep himself from breaking out into the world’s biggest and most satisfied grin. He tries to catch Armie’s eye, be conspiratorial, and when Armie can’t even meet his gaze Timmy knows he must be even more turned on than Timmy intended.

“All right, if you could try this now,” and the wardrobe assistant hands Timmy a fresh shirt to change into. When Timmy heads for the bedroom that’s been designated the changing room for the shoot, Armie follows a few paces behind him, hands jammed in his pockets to draw attention away from any unusual bulges. There’s a mischievous gleam in Timmy’s eye as he enters the changing room and deliberately leaves the door unlocked behind him.

The changing room is normally one of the bedrooms of the drafty old house they’ve rented for the day, and the bed is piled with the designer clothes Timmy has worn and discarded so far in the shoot. Timmy steps into the bedroom and starts to unzip his rainbow-colored jacket when the door opens and closes and Armie enters behind him.

Timmy turns with his “innocent” expression prepared on his face but Armie never even sees it. Before Timmy can even blink their mouths are together, Armie pressing him roughly against the foot of the bed, fumbling with the zipper to get the damn jacket the rest of the way off, Timmy chuckling against Armie’s mouth at the urgency.

When the jacket is unzipped Armie goes to throw it on the bed and sees the clothes already piled there. “Jesus, Timmy, isn’t there anything in this room we can fuck on that doesn’t cost $4000?” Armie slides onto the bed and pushes the clothes roughly into a pile against the headboard. Timmy dives after him so that when Armie rolls back over Timmy is there, pulling at Armie’s zipper, freeing his cock and grabbing at it roughly, finally feeling the evidence of what he’s been doing to Armie all afternoon. Timmy takes the head into his mouth and feels Armie relax into the bed, does a little tongue flick to the underside of Armie’s cock that he knows will drive Armie crazy.

Just when Armie’s about to moan from the pleasure of it, Timmy looks up with a devilish smile and pulls himself up so that his own leather-clad cock is rubbing against Armie’s. “There are people outside, you know,” Timmy whispers mischievously. “We’d better be very quiet.” Timmy’s braced with his arms to Armie’s sides and begins slowly, languidly rubbing his cock against Armie’s through the leather pants. The silence only makes their eye contact more intense, and Timmy can watch Armie’s pupils dilate with desire as he grinds against him.

Finally it’s too much even for Timmy and he reaches back with one hand to unzip the leather pants and push them off his hips. The unheated air is freezing at first and Timmy instinctively lowers himself back onto Armie for warmth. When he raises himself up again, Armie is looking at him warmly, touched by Timmy’s trust in seeking him out for warmth. Timmy brushes his cock against Armie’s,  _ god, how long has it been? A week? Two? Too long _ , and then he begins to stroke them, together, long fingers wrapping around them both and pressing them together, and when he starts to stroke faster Armie moans once, loudly, clearly, and Timmy knows someone in this drafty, unheated only mansion might have heard.

“Mmm-mm” Timmy murmurs disapprovingly. “You know we have to be quiet,” and he grabs the first thing at hand, that damn rainbow jacket that he’d been wearing all afternoon while thinking of this exact moment, of his hand on Armie’s cock, Armie under him, straining, watching, asking with his eyes what came next. Timmy takes the sleeve of the jacket and presses it between Armie’s teeth, Armie understands what’s being asked of him and opens his mouth softly, compliantly, folding his lips over the soft fabric and biting down hard. Timmy moves his hand back to press their cocks together again and this time Armie brings his hand up from the bed, joining Timmy, alternating strokes so there’s a constant rush of sensation, and now Timmy fears he won’t be able to stay quiet, stifles a moan, bites his lip and closes his eyes and rolls his head from side to side so as not to cry out. They’re both moving faster, now they’re past moaning, just heaving breaths that are increasingly faster and totally in sync. Armie reaches up with his other hand and pulls the jacket sleeve out of his mouth, then grabs the back of Timmy’s head, fisting his hand in Timmy’s curls, and pulls his head down for a kiss, full and needy and complete. Timmy pulls back from the kiss, flicks his tongue a little around the edge of Armie’s lips, they lace their fingers together around their cocks, and then suddenly they’re both over the edge, over the brink, cum spilling over their hands onto Armie’s stomach, Timmy laughs hoarsely and grabs at the rainbow jacket, wiping at Armie’s stomach with it and then wiping at their hands. He tosses the jacket carelessly onto the floor and catches Armie’s eye.

“My agent’s gonna kill me,” he says impishly, before leaning in for a final kiss.


End file.
